


ferhþlufu

by HannahPelham



Series: What is history? History is women following behind with a bucket [1]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 23:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahPelham/pseuds/HannahPelham
Summary: Edith Crawley is a historian researching the viking invasion of Britain. She stays at Brancaster Castle whilst she does her research, but finds herself much more interested in it's owner, Bertie Pelham. Modern AU.





	ferhþlufu

_ ferhþlufu - heartfelt love (Old English) _

 

“Are you sure you don’t mind, Mr Pelham?” Edith asked the man walking beside her. 

 

“Would I have offered if I minded, Miss Crawley?” Bertie Pelham replied. He had walked down the drive of Brancaster Castle to meet the new arrival, a pre-norman conquest historian called Edith Crawley, in Northumberland to do some research on the Viking invasion of Northern England and the subsequent Danelaw. It all flew over Bertie’s head but if he could help out a fellow human then it would be worth it. 

 

“If I’m staying with you, you might as well call me Edith” She said, walking up the front steps, carrying two of her suitcases. Bertie had been carrying the third since the taxi had dropped her off at the bottom of the drive. 

 

“In that case, no more Mr Pelham. Do call me Bertie” he replied, opening the huge front door with his spare hand. Edith gasped as she walked through the door.

 

“How did you end up with an amazing place like this?” Edith asked, putting her suitcases down and turning around slowly, trying to take in her location. 

 

“Old family pile. Ended up with me after my third cousin died” Bertie replied, beginning to walk up the grand staircase. 

 

“Did you get anything else?” Edith quiered as she picked up her suitcases and walked over to where he was standing, halfway up the stairs. 

 

“I’m also the Marquess of Hexham but that’s not particularly important” He commented. Edith stopped in her tracks. 

 

“Marquess?”

 

“Yes, but I try not to think about it. I’m just Bertie” He almost pleaded, looking at Edith. 

 

“Well then, just Bertie, where’s my bedroom?” she replied, running up the stairs as fast as she could with her two heavy suitcases. Bertie quickly followed, mesmerised by the beautiful young historian running up his stairs. 

 

Edith followed Bertie as he led her to her room.

 

“You’re in the family wing” Bertie said as he turned yet another corner, “it’s the most homely and the one with the en-suite and a kitchen for us to use”

 

They turned one final corner and Bertie opened a door, then another inner door, before a beautiful bedroom was revealed. Edith placed her two suitcases down with the one Bertie had brought up and looked around the room. The walls still had their original Edwardian wallpaper, a dressing table and mirror sat in between two huge windows overlooking Brancaster Castle’s beautiful grounds, and a four-poster bed dominated the rest of the room, the sheets and hangings complimenting the wallpaper. A door with opaque glass led to the en-suite, and there was a small package of luxury soaps on the dressing table waiting for her. 

 

“Bertie, really, this is too much. You must let me pay you someth-” Edith started.

 

“Nonsense” Bertie interrupted, “It’ll be nice to have some company in a house as old and empty as this one, and if you’re staying here with me then you deserve the best”

 

Edith walked over and stared out of one of the windows. She couldn’t quite believe she was actually here. As part of her research into the Viking occupation of Anglo-Saxon Britain, she was visiting collections and other historians in Northumberland, where the initial invasions took place. She wanted to see as many locations as she could first hand. She’d asked around for somewhere to stay, and a historian friend of hers, Laura Edmunds, had arranged for her to stay at Brancaster. 

 

“You can work wherever you like, really. The library does have some local history books which may prove useful, and there’s a desk in there if you want it. I’ll be out and about but you have my phone number if you need anything” Bertie said, standing a few paces back. He looked at Edith intensely. She was the complete opposite of what he’d expected, and now he couldn’t take her eyes off her. The evening sun made her hair almost glow. She looked like an angel, framed by the window. 

 

“Thank you again, Bertie. I can’t think how to thank you...I may have to dedicate my book to you” Edith replied, turning around. She leant against the window sill and looked at Bertie. She couldn’t really believe this man was a Marquess. He seemed so unassuming, so sweet, so gentle, and so young. She always imagined aristocratic men as perpetually old and perpetually scowling. Bertie was none of those things. He was young, seemingly lively, and Edith thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. 

 

“I wouldn’t say no” Bertie laughed, smiling properly for the first time since Edith had arrived. She rather thought it lit up the room “Anyway, I’ll let you get settled in. The little kitchen and sitting room I use is just down the hall, you can’t miss it”

 

Bertie left the room, closing both inner and outer door behind him, and Edith let out a deep breath. Any worries about staying with somebody thoroughly disagreeable were long gone. She pulled her phone from her back pocket, and snapped a picture to send to her family of the view. She unpacked her things, hanging her clothes in the antique wardrobe. She couldn’t believe such homes still existed in the 21st Century, and she felt unbelievably lucky to be staying in one such home. It seemed strange to Edith that it did feel like a home rather than a stately home that one visits on holiday with one’s parents as a youngster. 

 

“Perhaps it’s Bertie” She mused quietly to herself as she sat down on the bed, sinking into the feather mattress “Perhaps it’s a young man like him that gives it life”

 

Edith knew very little about Brancaster Castle, it’s history, the stories it had to tell, the secrets buried deep within it’s walls, but she was desperate to find out. She knew Bertie would be the place to start, of course, so she made her way down the corridor to the kitchenette he had mentioned. She opened the door gingerly. 

 

“Come in - fancy a cuppa?” Bertie asked as she walked in, gesturing to the sofa on the other side of the room. 

 

“Please, a splash of milk and no sugar” Edith replied as she got herself comfy, sinking into the seat, tucking her feet underneath her. Bertie quickly poured the tea and handed her a mug, sitting down next to her. 

 

“Bedroom alright?” He asked, taking a sip of tea. Edith laughed. 

 

“In a gorgeous room like that? What do you think, Bertie?” She replied. Bertie rolled his eyes and nodded. 

 

“Alright, stupid question, let me rephrase - settled in okay?”

 

“Perfectly, thank you” Edith replied, putting her mug down on the coffee table, “What do you know of the history of Brancaster?”

 

“Only what’s been passed down to me from my father, I was only the third cousin of the last Marquess, so we just lived on the estate” Bertie explained. 

 

“What did your father tell you?” 

 

“Only that the castle was built around 1100, really” Bertie replied, “he died when I was a boy”

Edith’s eyes widened as she reached out to place a comforting hand on Bertie’s forearm.

 

“Gosh I’m so sorry, I wouldn’t have pushed the subject if I’d have known” She said quickly, worried she’d put her foot in it without having been there five minutes. 

 

“Don’t apologise, it was a long time ago and I don’t remember him all that much, I’d love to know more about the old girl if you found anything in the course of your research, though if I’m not mistaken your time period is earlier than the castle’s construction?” He asked. He’d always been interested in history, but was much better with more recent time periods than pre-conquest like Edith. 

 

“Yes, the bit I’m writing a book on is sort of 800-1100 really, though nothing major really happened after the Norman Conquest, but if I find anything I’ll let you know - I’d be interested myself. Can you imagine the things these walls have seen?” She explained. She was surprised Bertie was so interested in what she was doing. Normally she found people didn’t care if it was before the Norman Conquest, because they already knew a thing or two about that. The Vikings interested small children, not academics, she was told by a particularly mean university student, and she’d made it her mission to make that part of British history accessible to everybody. 

 

“I expect some of it doesn’t bear thinking about” Bertie mused, his brain conjuring up images of burning arrows and vats of burning hot oil poured from over the battlements. 

 

“I imagine not, everything was rather gruesome until about 1700, I expect the grounds outside the defensive walls are littered with skeletons of dead invaders. This far up the country I expect they’re Celts and Picts and Scots” Edith replied casually, dipping a custard cream into her tea. Bertie’s eyes widened, and he glanced out of the window quickly, before taking a steadying sip of tea. He hoped Edith hadn’t seen it, but she had, and she’d thought it was adorable. 

 

“What do you do with your days, Bertie?” Edith asked. She was interested to know what a Marquess did in this day and age.

 

“Well, I look after the estate. It’s mainly paperwork at this point, so not all that much if I can help it” He replied. He didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic. 

 

“If you ever get a free moment, you could research the history of the castle and the estate - I’m sure some of those local history books you mentioned are in the library will help you” Edith encouraged. Not only would it get Bertie more involved with the fortress he called home, it meant he’d spend more time with her. 

 

“As it happens I don’t have all that much on at the moment, and it is a very inviting idea” Bertie said, drinking the last of his tea. 

 

“It’s a deal then - I research before the Norman Conquest, and you after it” Edith replied, holding out a hand for Bertie to shake. He took it, and both felt a bolt of electricity as they properly touched for the first time. Edith quickly realised that this might end up being more than just a research trip. 

 

The next morning, Bertie found Edith working away in the library at an ungodly hour. He’d woken early and had made his way to the library to watch the sunrise through the patio doors, and he’d been very surprised to find some lamps on and Edith sat hunched over the desk. 

 

“Morning Edith, have you been to bed yet?” He asked as he walked in, putting his tray of tea things down and thanking his lucky stars he picked up two mugs instead of one. 

 

“I did for a bit, I woke up about half an hour ago and my brain got going, I had to look something up otherwise it was going to bother me. What are you doing up, anyway? Early riser?” Edith replied, moving from the desk to the sofa where Bertie had sat. She pulled her dressing gown around her a little bit tighter, feeling the chill of the large room now she’d stopped working for a moment. 

 

“Woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, thought I’d watch the sunrise. You don’t mind, do you?” Bertie said, pouring a cup of tea for each of them. 

 

“It’s your house, Bertie” Edith said as she took her mug of tea from the table, “as long as you don’t mind me disturbing your peace?”

 

“Don’t be silly, it’s nice to have the company” Bertie replied, settling back into the cushions. They looked out of the glass doors just as the sun was starting to rise. It was a particularly beautiful morning. They drank their tea quietly, occasionally filling up their mugs from the polka dot teapot on the coffee table. By the time the sun had risen, Edith and Bertie were leaning on each other ever so slightly. Edith’s dressing gown had come apart slightly as she’d subconsciously moved, letting her silk nightie peek out of the top. Bertie’s had also suffered a similar fate, and Edith caught the quickest glimpse of his bare chest. 

 

They weren’t disturbed until Edith received a text message, the sound from her phone scaring the life out of both of them. Edith checked it and sighed. 

 

“What?” Bertie asked as he tightened the knot of his dressing gown. 

 

“My sister, Mary” Edith replied, putting her phone back in her pocket, “We don’t exactly get on”

 

Bertie nodded, and pushed it no further. If the sisters really didn’t get on, he didn’t fancy opening that can of worms quite yet. Edith clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t want to upset her. He liked her a lot, in fact he’d already decided she was one of the best people he’d ever had the fortune to meet, so he definitely didn’t want to balls it up. 

 

Edith knew her family was unusual, full of secrets and a deep-rooted loathing between her and her sister Mary, made especially worse by the untimely death of their youngest sister, Sybil. Bertie hadn’t said much about his family, but it seemed like they probably had some secrets too. 

 

The sun started to shine through the windows, letting Edith get a proper glimpse at Brancaster’s immense library for the first time. 

 

“Do you like it?” Bertie asked, piling the tea things back onto the tray. 

 

“I feel like I’m in Beauty and the Beast, it’s astonishing” She replied, turning to look at him. Bertie realised he didn’t need the sun to see the library - Edith’s smile lit up the whole room. 

 

The pair of them made their way back upstairs, through the winding halls to the family wing. 

 

“I’ll make breakfast whilst you get dressed - fancy anything in particular?” Bertie asked as they neared Edith’s bedroom. Edith noticed the name on the door opposite -  _ Herbert Pelham.  _

 

“Whatever you’re having, I’m not a vegetarian or anything” she replied as she opened her door and slipped into her room. Bertie slipped into his and dressed quickly, before he found himself making scrambled eggs on toast for the pair of them. Soon, he was joined by Edith, with a book tucked under her arm. 

 

“My favourite, thank you Bertie” Edith said as she sat down at the small pine table. The kitchen was obviously designed with only one or two people in mind, and it made it feel very homely. 

 

“You’re welcome Edith, it was no trouble. What are you reading?” Bertie replied, placing the two plates down on the old table. 

 

“Beowulf” She said as she handed Bertie the book, “Brushing up on my Old English”. Bertie looked at the book for a moment, before handing it back. He’d heard of Beowulf, of course, but he didn’t imagine it was the sort of thing people read for fun, but then again, Edith wasn’t just anybody. 

 

Bertie didn’t see Edith until lunchtime. She was in the library, beavering away at her work, which is what she went to Brancaster to do, whilst he sat in his office down the hall and looked over the estates accounts. It was a warm day, and both he and Edith had opened the doors to the patio. As the morning drew on, Bertie began to hear Edith whistling and humming as she got on with her work. By lunchtime, she’d plugged her phone into the hi-fi system the previous Marquess had installed in the library, and was singing along to her favourite songs. He smiled as he heard her bump into a table whilst dancing to ‘The Embassy Waltz’ from My Fair Lady, and as she got her revolution on whilst singing ‘Do You Hear the People Sing?’ from Les Miserables. When he’d received an email from Laura Edmunds saying an academic was coming to stay with him, he’d expected a stuffy old woman. Edith was nothing of the sort, something of a free spirit, apparently not a care in the world, and a beautiful singer to boot. Bertie could hardly help but fall under her spell. 

 

After lunch, the showtunes ended, and the punk began. Bertie sat in the library with Edith all afternoon, reading up on Brancaster’s history whilst she pieced together a basic timeline of the Viking invasion and subsequent Danelaw rule. Bertie was impressed she could remember the order all the pieces of paper went in, especially whilst singing along to ‘I Fought the Law’ by The Clash. Edith never failed to surprise, it seemed. 

Their days continued on like this for a few weeks - occasionally watching the sunrise, but breakfast together before Edith went to the library to work and Bertie went to his office to do something boring and estate-related. Afternoons were spent half working and half doing astonishingly bad karaoke in the library with Edith whilst she added more and more to her timeline each day. What did Bertie do more of each day?

 

He fell more and more in love with Edith each day. 

 

The moment he’d realised he was in love with her wasn’t her finest moment. She was belting out ‘Milord’ by Edith Piaf in an awful French accent. She had completely lost herself, using a water bottle as a microphone, she stood on the coffee table giving it her all, and he was lost. That was it. He was in love with Edith Crawley and he would be until the end of his days. 

 

Of course, Bertie had no idea that he’d completely charmed Edith too. From the moment he’d offered to carry one of her suitcases up the drive, she’d been completely smitten. Everything he’d done for her, from making her breakfast every morning to indulging her singalongs every afternoon, had made her fall more and more in love with him, and she thought it was time he knew. 

 

She jumped off the table as Bertie applauded, and quickly found the song she was looking for. She got back on the table, and began to sing. 

  
  


_ Guess mine is not the first heart broken _

_ My eyes are not the first to cry _

_ I'm not the first to know _

_ There's just no getting over you _

 

_ You know I'm just a fool who's willing _

_ To sit around and wait for you _

_ But, baby, can't you see _

_ There's nothing else for me to do? _

_ I'm hopelessly devoted to you _

  
  


Bertie listened to her, and wondered whether she knew what she was doing to him. Did she know how in love with her he was and how much he wanted what she was singing to be true? Before he could ponder this question much more, Edith had jumped off the table and yanked him off the sofa, crashing her lips to his. It took Bertie a moment to realise what was happening, but once he did, he reciprocated, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. He could hardly believe it was happening. It was Edith who pulled away first. 

 

“Bertie…” she whispered. 

 

“Mhmm” Bertie replied, matching her volume. 

 

“I’m in love with you” She said, her lips grazing his. 

 

“Thank god. I’m in love with you too” Bertie replied, as he connected their lips again. 

 

The next morning, Bertie found himself waking up in Edith’s room, her head resting on his chest as she slept. He smiled down at her and realised he wanted to wake up next to her for the rest of his life. 

 

Reader, he married her. 


End file.
